Now, stroking powerfully, Zach looked back at her. “Are you all right?”
“Yes. Why do you ask?” Lou absently replied while matching her rhythm to his.
“You looked a little peaked when you woke up.”
“It’s nothing.”
“Maybe you should have stayed in bed,” Zach said. “I can manage on my own.”
“It’s nothing!” Lou repeated irritably. She had not told him about her queasiness.
“I can take you back to shore,” Zach offered, hiding his surprise. She was rarely cross with him without cause.
“I am fine, I tell you.” But Lou did not feel fine. The motion of the canoe was doing unpleasant things to her stomach. She closed her eyes for a bit, and when she opened them again she felt a little better.
Over in his canoe, Nate King overheard their exchange and did not like it. He remembered the romantic tryst they had taken up to the glacier a while back, with the express aim of starting a family, and he marveled that Louisa had not put two and two together. Increasing his speed, Nate brought his canoe alongside McNair’s. In his haste, they nearly collided.
“What the blazes?” Shakespeare exclaimed. “If you are trying to send me to the bottom, you are off to a good start.”
Nate gazed about to be sure no one would hear and said quietly, “I think Louisa is pregnant.”
“She isn’t sure yet,” Shakespeare replied.
“You knew about it?”
“I know everything.”
“Why didn’t you say something? She is my daughter-in-law.”
“Didn’t you hear me say she isn’t sure yet? I will be happy to tell you when she is.”
“You are particular about your gossip. That is rare for a biddy hen.”
Shakespeare snorted like a incensed bull. “You prattle something too wildly, Horatio.” He regarded the canoe bearing Zach and Lou. “If she is, she should not be with us, but since she is here, we must take special care she is not placed in harm’s path.”
Nate nodded. They had already decided that when the creature was sighted, Zach and Lou were to move in close and while Lou handled the paddle, Zach would cast one of their special weapons. “I will go in first when we spot the thing instead of them, Nate said.”
“Why you and not me?” Shakespeare demanded.
“I said it first.”
“I was born first.”
“That’s a ridiculous reason.” Nate used his paddle. “I will go tell Zach and Louisa.”
“Don’t let on why.”
Nate angled his canoe to intercept his son and daughter-in-law. They were so intent on the water ahead that they did not notice him until he was almost on them. “There’s been a change in plans.”
“Pa?”
“You and Lou will hang back and help Waku and Dega with the net.”
“But we already talked it out. I want in on the kill,” Zach reminded him.
“Be ready in case we miss.” Nate paddled away to avoid being quizzed. His son sounded disappointed, and he did not blame him. All Zach’s life, he had lived for the thrill of counting coup and the challenge of the hunt. Then Zach married Lou, and her love had blunted his bloodletting. But deep down Zach was still Zach; he still relished the excitement of pitting himself against any and all comers.
Soon they were well out on the lake. The sun was half up, casting the sky in hues of yellow and pink. The waterfowl were astir. Ducks quacked and flapped, swans arched their long necks and raised their large wings, gulls squawked in raucous irritation. A pair of storks winged in low and alighted with admirable grace given their ungainly appearance. Fish were beginning to jump.
Nate straightened and scanned the lake from end to end. If Shakespeare was right, the thing would soon rise out of the depths to feed. They must be ready, or they would miss the chance. He checked on the others. Winona and Blue Water Woman were to his right, Shakespeare to his left, the others trailing.
Once the creature was sighted, Winona and Blue Water Woman would swing to the north of it, Shakespeare to the east, Zach and Lou and the Nansusequa to the west, and Nate to the south.
“We will surround the varmint,” Shakespeare had proposed. “The only way it can escape us will be straight down.”
Now, Nate stopped paddling and placed the paddle crosswise across the gunwales. The smell of the water, the lap of the wavelets against the canoe, and the shrieks of the gulls brought to vivid mind his last encounter. He hoped to God they fared better this time.
Nate did not like having the women along. Not because he felt he was any better at handling a canoe, or any tougher, or even because he was a man and they were women. He did not want them there because he cared dearly for them, and what they were doing was terribly dangerous. He gazed across at Winona and Blue Water Woman. Winona noticed he was looking at them, and smiled and called out.
“Is everything all right?”
With a lump in his throat, Nate smiled and nodded.
“Be careful, husband.”
“You too, wife.”
The part of the lake in their vicinity was still and serene. A few geese were to the southeast.
Closer were nine mergansers, the males black and white, the females a dusky gray. The flock swam past Winona’s canoe without breaking formation, their heads held high, their tails twitching.
Nate glanced down at the special weapons in the bottom of his canoe. Shakespeare had insisted that one weapon was not enough, so each canoe had a pair. He fingered one, praying his cast would be true.
The mergansers started making a racket.
Tensing, Nate looked up. The surface showed no sign of a disturbance below.
Squawking louder, the mergansers broke rank.
“What’s going on?” Louisa wondered.
Suddenly the mergansers scattered. Several frantically flapped their wings to get airborne.
That was when the monster struck.
Disaster
They all saw it.
One of the mergansers was starting to rise into the air, its webbed feet brushing the surface, when the lake bulged upward. The merganser uttered a sharp
His every nerve tingling, Nate King, who was nearest, paddled swiftly toward the spot.
Other mergansers gained altitude. Those that had not taken to the air were streaking through the water with fear-induced speed, their heads thrust forward, raising their cries to the sky.
A female was swimming in panicked flight directly toward the canoe Winona and Blue Water Woman were in. The terrified duck did not seem to see them. Both women were frozen by the tableau, their paddles in their hands.
Nate probed the water for the creature, but the glare of the rising sun hid whatever lay below.
Suddenly the female merganser, now only thirty feet from Winona and Blue Water Woman, let out with a
“Look out!” Shakespeare shouted.
A swell was rising in the spot where the duck had disappeared. As before, all that could be seen was the vaguest outline of a huge shape. With alarming rapidity, the creature bore down on Winona and Blue Water Woman’s canoe.
